


That Empty Void

by VividDayDreamer



Category: Star Wars: Rebels
Genre: Don’t copy to another site, Gen, Loss of Parent(s), Pain, Parental Hera Syndulla, Sabine As A Big Sister, Takes places soon after the liberation of Lothal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-03
Updated: 2019-02-03
Packaged: 2019-10-21 20:11:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17649107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VividDayDreamer/pseuds/VividDayDreamer
Summary: "We've all lost parents...," she said as she held the little bundle in her arms...."You're one of us now...," she whispered.  "Guess that's the luck of this family, huh?"She tried to laugh, but it was just a painful reminder.





	That Empty Void

**Author's Note:**

> An unexpected outcome to a writing exercise that I did after having a drink or two last night.

"We've all lost parents...," she said as she held the little bundle in her arms.

The girl, brought up by Mandalorians, taught by the Imperials, and raised by the Rebels, had now become a much older and stronger person, fighting for the freedom of others. It was someone she never saw herself becoming during her younger years. Yet, deep in the recesses of her mind and heart, laid some of the same insecurities and pain that never healed. Despite that, however, she continued to move on. Now at nineteen, Sabine was trying to step up even more.

She stared at this young boy, who slept peacefully as she rocked him in her arms, cradling him as if it came naturally. Tufts of green hair peeked from around the hooded blanket that he was swaddled in. His face was the most peaceful and innocent thing she'd ever seen, in a long, long time. And for a moment, she realized that she'd been crying. Wet stains speckled that boy's lemon colored blanket. Circular patterns of various sizes darkened right on him.

She thought it wasn't fair. The Empire had once more stolen an important piece of another's childhood. No matter what would try to fill it, there will always be a void. It was something that carried on, into adulthood. 

"You're one of us now...," she whispered. "Guess that's the luck of this family, huh?" 

She tried to laugh, but it was just a painful reminder.

Everyone on the crew had lost parents, and look at how damaged they'd been since. Everyone had struggled to overcome that loss, but it continued to live within, manifesting itself at random moments, sometimes even causing a temporary state of emotional and mental paralysis, all easily triggered by a single incident.

She recalled how Ezra had been pained his entire life by the loss of his parents. How it ate at him, how it caused his depression, how it warped his thinking at times, and how he found solace with the Ghost crew. But now, with him away, she knew it was eating at him again. He had grown, taking on responsibilities only he knew he could handle. He had matured, but she knew, under all that, the loss of family was the one thing that would always throw him into an abyss of darkness. That loneliness...it haunted him, and it was probably doing it to him now.

Then, there was Zeb. He tried to hide it; mask his pain, but even after finding his people again, after finding a new planet to call home, his pain never left. He never got to say goodbye to his parents, and from what he told them, they'd been close. An only child. The pride and joy of his parents. But they were gone. Forever. His pain always manifested in the form of violence. Against the stormtroopers, against rowdy bar patrons, against anyone who may have looked at him the wrong way, at the wrong time. It never went away.

For herself, she was the luckiest of the group, theoretically. Her parents were still alive. But she knew, deep down, that that dynamic never really worked. She might as well have been raised by the instructors at the Academy. Her father was the only one that treated her as something of value, but, he was rarely around. He was always traveling, displaying his art, and trying to influence their society with it. Her brother, the one thing they had in common was rivalry. For each other. She realized, after seeing them last, that he had become a bit more complacent towards her, but she felt that it was only because he had won over their mother. Something she could never have done. And her mother, there were no words to describe that woman's coldness towards her. Even after reuniting, it seemed that the Countess could never fully accept Sabine as she was, at least that's how she saw it. And throughout it all, for as long as she could remember, she never felt as if she really had parents. It was only through Kanan and Hera did she understand what was missing in her life. And though she felt lucky...so lucky to have had her adopted parents, she still remembered what it was like, to have that void during her younger years; times where she felt she needed it them the most.

Hera. The strongest, bravest, and most loving woman she'd ever met. She's the glue that held their family together. No one asked her to play that role, but she felt it necessary. The success of the rebellion and the well-being of her crew was of utmost importance. It was later on, after Lothal had been liberated, and only a day after her child's birth, that Hera opened up to Sabine about so much of it. The root of everything she had done and everything she had become today, was rooted from her mother and her death. Hera knew the importance of having a maternal figure. There were many times the memories returned and her emotions rioted, but she never showed it. Never. Her loss, manifested in a world of caring and nurturing that she wanted to give to others.

Then there was Kanan. In some ways, he may have been the luckiest. Maybe. He never knew his parents. Taken away at such a young age, only to be raised by the Jedi masters of yore, he never really knew what he lost. Between having fellow padawans and Jedi masters having similar histories, it wasn't really focused upon. Add to that the training they had undergone to control their emotions and the teachings preached to them to prevent emotional attachments, it would have seemed like it would've never been an issue. It wasn't until the days after Order 66, that he realized the importance of having someone to rely on. After that dreadful time, he found that he needed more than just a fellow Jedi master to run to. Under all those teachings and training, there was still an inner child, deprived of emotional response. His former master, Depa Billaba and an old man, named Okadiah, were the closest things he had. When his emotions latched on to their kindness and caring attitude, his awareness of that hole in his life became even more evident. Fighting that inner feeling became hard, and it created a sense of doubt and denial about how he felt about himself and others. It wasn't until his untimely death, that Sabine thought he had finally gotten closure.

The child began to squirm in her arms, slightly waking from its peaceful slumber. His eyes remained closed, but they squinted harder and his brows started to furrow. Then, all of a sudden, he began to cry in that way that only newborns could. Sabine found it a disturbing coincidence that he started crying as soon as her thoughts of Kanan had finished. It didn't really surprise her though. Being his son, he must be force-sensitive. He must have sensed...something.

All this and the reminder of the loss of this one man, the one Sabine truly acknowledged as her true father and this boy's biological father, was just too much to bare, and it felt just as painful as it did that day. She cradled the boy tighter into her chest, coddled him, and gently bounced him. All she did were not only actions to appease him, but it was her own subconscious expressing the determination to protect him, hoping to fill even a portion of that hole in his infancy. She could never fill Kanan's shoes. No one could fill Kanan's shoes. No one, could fill the place where a parent should be.

So there they were, huddled in the corner of a room in the med center, two days after his birth, where the two seemed to share that understanding.

"I'm so sorry, Jacen," she quietly sobbed. "I'm...I'm so sorry."

Encumbered by these emotions, Sabine continued to weep quietly, with the occasional sniffling and steady stream of tears running down her face being the only indications of her sadness. She held tightly onto that boy, as if trying to shield him from any harm, and physically telling him that he'll be safe. It wasn't until she was startled by a sudden touch on the shoulder, that she paused her movements and tried to hide her grief.

"Sabine?" called out the warm voice from behind her.

"I'm...it was Jacen. He...he was just crying, so I..."

In that moment, that warm touch had spread, covering her from behind in a warm embrace; an all too familiar feeling she had known over the years.

"Hera...I..."

"Shhh...It's okay sweetie. You can cry if you need to," she started. Her arms bore strength, yet were comforting all at the same time. It was an indescribable feeling. It always shrouded her with a sense of security. 

After the initial shock of losing Kanan. After losing Ezra. After everything, Hera only showed that one moment of despair, many many months ago. Since then, her resolve had gotten even stronger, to protect what remained of her family.

"It'll be alright," she continued. "I'll always be here. For both of you. Forever."


End file.
